


A Sad Life Hidden by a Bright Smile

by Bubbles759



Series: Fire Alarms and Cooking Lessons [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Foster System, Minor Character Death, Sad Kíli, drug overdose mentioned, mention of drugs, mentioned child abuse, sad childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubbles759/pseuds/Bubbles759
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili's life hasn't been a walk in the park. But he hides it well. A bright smile and the right words hides a lot of pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sad Life Hidden by a Bright Smile

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of Kili's background. It's not highly detailed because I do plan to come back and do some more specific events in more detail. Please do read the tags and if there's anything I've missed please let me know. 
> 
> This isn't a happy fic people. If you though the last fic about Fili's background was sad, this is worse. Not sure if I need a tissue warning but it's definitely not a happy one. 
> 
> There are a few serious issues mentioned in this but nothing graphic or detailed. If anyone is unsure send me a message and I'll let you know what to look out for. 
> 
> It turns out that when there is a lot of time spent on a bus, there is a lot of time for writing.

Kili doesn’t remember anything about his father. He was not much more than a toddler when the man walked out of his life. Kili knows he inherited his nose and his height, his mother would barely come up to his shoulder now, and he’s glad he looks like her rather than some nameless man that only contributed to his genetics. He doesn’t even have his father’s name. His parents weren’t married when he was born and his father told his mother to give him her name. In retrospect, that should have given Dis a clue that he wasn’t planning to stick around long.

Kili didn’t mind at first. His mum was always there, playing with him, helping him, looking after him. She used to cook his favourite foods, and help him learn his letters and numbers. His Grandma and Grandpa were there too. For a little while. They helped look after him while his mum was a work, his Gran would colour with him, or do puzzles and his Pa would take him out in the garden, show him how to keep the plants alive, teach him what they were and what they could be used for. His Gran’s favourites were the large sunflowers that grew in the back corner. The flowers were so large that Kili could hide in them when the shouting between his mum and grandparents got too loud and scary.

When he was 6 his pa got sick and he and his mum moved in with them. Although, unknown to Kili at the time his grandparents insisted, not because Pa was sick, but because Dis had no money. When he was 7, he lost the only male family member he had ever known. Kili spent a lot of time in the garden that year, hiding in the sunflowers in the summer, curling up in the woodshed, the large ginger tomcat called Marmalade always by his side, as mum and Gran fought.

About anything really, but mostly about money.

Kili noticed that things in the house gradually disappeared over the years. China. Glass. Jewellery. And he noticed the fights happened more often. Usually about the same time he noticed something going missing. Gran kept accusing mum of taking things but mum always denied it. And Kili? As observant as he was, needed to be, Kili couldn’t imagine mum would do that. She wouldn’t take Gran’s things... Would she?

By the time his grandmother died when he was 10, the house was almost barren. And when hospital and funeral bils arrived, and Dis had no way of paying for them, they lost the house too. Dis took what she could fit in a few bags, and Kili took what he wanted most; a few photos of the only people who had loved him, and of the cat. Marmalade had passed away the year before and Kili had never cried so hard. He also took the pocket watch his Pa had given to him, keeping it in his pocket, away from Dis.

Then they were out on the streets.

They moved from shelter to shelter, Dis picking up work occasionally, but Kili learned to ignore hunger pains, ignore the strange men DIs met, ignore the odd, sometimes cold, look in her eyes.

But he couldn’t ignore the bruises she, and the strange men, inflicted on him. The schools noticed his ratty clothing, the thinness of his frame, the way he moved ever so carefully. But every time CPS came to talk to his mum, everything was picture perfect. Then he would spend a few days at home recovering.

Sometimes the time recovering was worse than the abuse.

He learned not to tell people anything while making them believe he was telling them everything.

He learned to be the loner, ignoring the bullying and the isolation. He learned to ignore the drug paraphernalia that was always lying around. He learned more than basic first aid to help out his mum, and he learned how to help her through minor overdoses.

And then, when he was 13, he learned to hate himself when Dis died from an overdose and he felt nothing but relief.

He was relieved when he was put into a group home, then shifted from foster home to foster home. He always had food, shelter and clothing; something he hadn’t always had. The people he lived with were always nice but he never stayed long. They were always a temporary home, and he was never upset when he moved on.

He had a therapist help him through his teenage years. Gandalf was a kind, older man who was always dressed in shades of grey and white. They dissected his childhood, discussed his mother and grandparents, and slowly Kili came to terms with what had happened.

Even if he never really dealt with it.

He told Gandalf enough for the therapist to work with, but never told him everything.

Old habits die hard.

He learned to drive, got good marks in school, and when he was 17, was accepted into university to study psychology and social work. He was given a small amount of money, and social services found him an apartment, helped him get a job at a cafe not far from home or school.

Then he was alone again.

Slowly, Kili found himself. He rediscovered a love of dance, taking free classes at the local community centre in exchange for helping out. He also became an ear for the troubled kids that came through. He was empathetic, not sympathetic nor pitying. He understood where they were coming from and he helped out where he could.

But he still kept people at length.

He made a few friends through school, Gimli and Ori shared a few classes with him, but he couldn’t forget all he’d learned and while they both thought he was open and friendly, he still told them nothing while telling them everything.

He had no desire to have people close to him again. He’d seen how that always ended.

Until a blonde moved into the apartment across the hall.

********

The first time Kili spotted the blonde, he was moving into the apartment across the hall. Kili stood in the shadow in his doorway, watching as the blonde hauled boxes into the apartment from where they were neatly stacked in the hallway. He had caught sight of a large, tattooed man in a tight black vest with _LONDON FIRE BRIGADE_ written across it in bright yellow letters set the last box down before he hauled the blonde in for a hug then disappeared down the stairs.

Kili felt emotions he’d never felt before as he watched tight muscles move under tanned skin and the dark ink etched on the man’s shoulders and arms that were conveniently exposed by the white tank top he was wearing. The blonde hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, and the blue basketball shorts hung low on his hips.

Kili let his gaze drop down to a very nice arse and toned thighs. He head someone clear their throat and he looked up into bright blue eyes sparkling with mirth. He opened his mouth to say something and Kili panicked, practically falling back into his apartment and slamming the door shut.

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily and looking at his feet, determinedly ignoring his traitorous body. He’d never really discovered sex or his sexuality due to his childhood. But apparently his body had taken a liking to his new neighbour without his brain’s permission.

Traitor.

His breathing picked up, black spots dancing across his vision and he felt his hands and feet start to tingle. His knees buckled and he crawled his way to the kitchen. His brain blanked but thankfully his body knew what to do.

The next thing he knew, a familiar voice was coming through his mobile.

“Kili? Kili, lad, are you ok?”

“Gandalf? I... I can’t... I need...”

“It’s ok Kili. Take a deep breath. We’ll work through it.”

For the next 30 minutes Kili lay curled on his kitchen floor, his therapist talking him through a panic attack without knowing the reason for it. When the call finished, with an appointment scheduled for Thursday, Kili crawled into bed, washed down a couple of pills with a glass of water, and curled up trying to ignore the new way he was feeling.

But as he drifted off, his mind replayed the images of the gorgeous blonde moving in across the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Go and eat some chocolate people. I'm sure you need it. 
> 
> Comments are love!


End file.
